


Nýr

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Trickster God and a Man of Iron on a summer afternoon. (For Natalie!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nýr

**Author's Note:**

> Some smut for my dear Natalie's birthday (a day late due to revisions taking more time than expected), I hope I've made her proud.
> 
> Or ashamed.
> 
> To be friends with me.
> 
> Ashamed to be friends with me that's the goal here.

Tony sighed.

He looked over his left and right shoulder to find an empty hallway.

He sighed louder, trilling the end of the breath against his tongue.

"What is it?" came a fluid voice, drawling through the manor, dripping off a tongue.

"My bedroom looks like a fucking cave."

An arm around his neck.

" _Our_ bedroom."

A chill up his spine and a warmth down his belly.

"I live in a multimillion dollar penthouse, not a BatCave."

Lips at the shell of his ear, teeth at the lobe.

" _We_ live in a-"

"Loki I'm being serious you've turned my room into Halloween town."  
"It suits me."  
"It's July."

The Jotun gave a small sigh, a hum between thin lips, and slid past Tony into the redecorated bedroom to sprawl on the bed that had so long been saved for one. It wasn't...an unpleasant change all in all. Certainly it seemed...palatial, clashing horribly with the clean, modern, wood panel white wall style of the rest of the house. It rang in shades of red and gold, darkened by the curtains drawn across the skylight that spanned three quarters of the ceiling. Those would be a point of tension. Tony, who  rose early and slept late, had grown to value daylight. Loki, who rose late and somehow slept never, was most comfortable in the dark. A happy medium had been attempted with candles, dripping warm yellow wax over their ornate black holders.

"Did you raid the Spirit Store? Wh-"

"Hush," was the silky reply, pale legs dripping off the left side of his newly sheeted bed, "it's better."

Tony leaned against the door frame, mouth drawing into a line of  irritation, "I designed this bedr-"

"Pepper designed this bedroom. Pepper designed this house, we-"

"Penthouse. Pepper designed this penthouse," said Tony coldly. He and Pepper were a complex affair, a clean, mutual split that sent Tony back to the liquor cabinet and her back to LA to "better manage Stark Enterprises". She took the news of his new flame exceptionally well, better in fact, than most of the team. Her perfect bureaucracy had driven the knife deeper into his chest.

"It matches your suit," the god replied coolly, staring at the now ornate ceiling, a lock of hair spun tightly around his right pinky.

Tony opened his mouth, shutting it a moment later. That sounded almost like. . .blatant affection.

Two vibrant green eyes darted to him, corners of a thin mouth twitched, a long pale neck extended in a casual stretch. Hook, line, sinker.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering into his hand. He wasn't opposed to change necessarily, it was compromise that had proven a bitter pill to swallow. Rubbing his cheek in thought, he surveyed the room once more before staring back at an aesir that wasn't paying attention to him. Loki remained on his back, one hand on his chest, the other toying with his hair, spindly legs reaching impossibly far, feet locked delicately at the ankles with heels against the cherry wood floor. All this time and it was still jarring to see him so thoroughly dressed down.

It had been five years since Loki's first summer in Midgard; when the Chitautri had descended upon New York like a swarm of locusts for a king and he had been dragged back home in chains. Much had changed since then, new blood spilt, new treaties signed, new beds made and rumpled.

It had taken Tony three of those summers to convince him that he was not, in fact,  Mick Jagger, and did not need to be clad solely in black leather at all possible times. Loki refused to Google it. Tony said that when he starts him up he never stops. The quip was acknowledged and acted upon; yet after, amidst wet, tangled sheets as he hummed the rest into his hair, Tony felt the line had been lost on him.

Finally, Loki sacrificed his usual regalia for the sake of practicality, one muggy New York summer too many sent him from leather and metal to cotton and silk. His brother - having long since found merit in Jane's suggested jeans and t-shirts - clapped him solidly on the back and professed his joy at "his dear brother's long overdue appreciation for Midgardian dress". 

Ever a champion of circumstance, Loki took to stealing Tony's clothes. They fit him ill,  sewn as they were for a shorter, more muscular frame, yet his haughty disdain for the greater part of the realm seemed to burn through the sweat and oil stains on their cuffs and their collars. It was a grey undershirt today, singed at the hems and stained across the chest, paired with a pair of black silk boxers Tony had suspected the washer to have eaten. The peak of the summer's heat waves were rough on the Ice Prince, causing his mood to sour and his fuse to shorten; seeing him sprawled as he was, skin so exposed and eyes so aglitter, was disconcerting.

"It's not like I wear it to bed."

"Sorry, what?" Tony said, startled from his contemplations by the pointed imitation of his voice.

"You were taking too long," Loki purred, rolling onto his left side, shifting his knees to pop out a hip, "I don't bed the dull of tongue."

"So we're just not gonna talk about this?"

"Your mouth has better uses than chiding me,"he was mercury pouring off Egyptian cotton, when Loki had sparks in his eyes he slithered rather than stepped, hips rolling in subtle, shallow arcs. He leaned against the door on Tony's side, left hand's fingertips resting on the top of the frame, right hand griping Tony's hip.

"Can we take a moment to discuss how cliché this is? You just redecorated my room-"

" _Our_ room, Man of Iron, your will need be more mailable." 

He kissed him, gently, brushing his crafty lips against the stubble on his chin before darting up to peck his mouth. Skin to skin, one pressing, one teasing. The Trickster pulled back, kneading Tony's hip with his right hand, leaning his upper arm against the door frame beneath his head, letting his hand drop behind his head to grasp another strand of hair. He'd let it grow since Tony had started pulling on it.

"Would you like me to beg?" he said loftily, looking down his slender nose at Tony, who felt a sharp hip press into his.

"Well, maybe just...just a please," said Tony, staring at his mouth, sliding his hands to his hips, tracing circles in his marble skin with his thumbs.

Loki draped his left hand over Tony's right shoulder, his elbow resting straight near his neck, fingers tracing patterns in the air behind them. 

"Oh pl-" the rest of the word and the smirk it arrived on were taken hungrily into a generous mouth.

Tony could taste the victory on his lips, feel it curdle as it poured into his mouth, his tongue curl as he purred into him. Roughly, he turned him, shoving his back into the side of the door they'd been leaning against, guiding his hips in a rhythm against his own. Tony broke away from their kiss hastily, dragging his wet, open mouth down Loki's chin and planting it onto the side of him neck.

"Ugh," came a grunt of disapproval, "don't be a mess."

Tony bit his neck in earnest, teeth digging mercilessly into skin made tender by his tongue's attention.

"Don't touch my stuff," he said, wedging his left thigh between Loki's legs, pinning him firmly in place with three limbs, "It must be a family thing-"

The inevitable buck was more than Tony had planned for. A thrust of Loki's hips and a powerful shove into him by strong fingered hands sent Tony's spine into a painful embrace with the opposite side of the door frame, pinned as his partner had been moments before. Quickly, a viper's strike, Loki yanked his wrists up above his head, pushing his fingers against the top of the door frame, pressing his forehead into his so his skull throbbed against the wood behind it. Something burned behind the pair of emerald eyes boring into Tony's heart, something not entirely decided between rueful and wanton. 

They kissed again, tenderly, their vicious embrace sapping them of their masochism for the moment. Tony felt teeth pull at his bottom lip, a canine digging painfully into the sensitive skin, jaws yanking that vulnerable strip of flesh away from him. But it was returned to him promptly, a warm tongue sent to soothe where eager fangs had struck. Tony felt Loki's cool skin begin to brew a warmth in his lower belly, and he tensed impatiently as they kissed, a want growing to a need. He began to move his hips, first struggling to wiggle from Loki's crushing hold, then succeeding – moreso being allowed – to rub against his partner, each producing quiet moans from the other.

Tony became suddenly distracted by the thought that he was rubbing his own underwear to a shine, undoubtedly an impressive exercise in egocentricism. The Jotun behind the straining fabric however, would be sure to safeguard against such petty selfishness. Loki gasped, cutting the noise short by bringing his teeth bearing back down onto Tony's barely recovered lip.

“Stark,” he said gruffly, speaking through the snared flesh in between his fangs, “I grow impatient with the chastity of your rutting.”

Tony tried to speak, but found his mouth too contorted to serve him. Fine, though he'd had a good response to that one, something about how he wasn't one to tup but perhaps the eight remaining realms could offer him a partner more cloven than he. But no, fine, if he wanted it now he wanted it now. And he wasn't getting it quite yet if Tony could help it.

Loki gave the scheming inventor free reign of his hands, releasing his wrists to thread his fingers through the hair at the back of his head. Putting on his best demure expression (one that settled toward the lower end of self indulgent coquetishness) Tony lowered his arms to grip at Loki's hips, feeling the sharp, slim, bones rub against the joints of his hands and the length of his cock slide against his. His lip was given back to him as well, the Trickster God becoming dizzy with the generosity of Midgardian flesh. So it was Tony's turn to strike.

He pushed, as hard and as quickly as he could, determined to make use of this momentary release from Loki's grip. His force was directed to his left, shoving his partner towards his newly redecorated bed. Tony took two steps to meet him, still at least five away from the edge of the mattress.

Loki gave an exasperated sigh, “You need only to ask, Stark,” he seethed.

“So I need permission now,” he replied, cupping his hips once more, sliding a hand down his left thigh and his lips down his neck, “Like one of those signed yellow slips they gave in middle school? Come on,” he took another step, forcing Loki back as he advanced, “I take what I want.”

“You can't always get what you want,” said Loki tersely, tensing the muscles in his neck against the admittedly inviting nibbles of his partner.

Tony drew his head back, eyes wide and mouth lax, “Oh my god,”

“What?”

“Oh my god.”

“What?!”

“Y-you googled them. You googled the Stones,” said Tony, unable to contain an ear to ear grin.

“I d-”

Tony pressed an index finger to his lips and shook his head, “Let me have this one Pony Boy, do this for me.”

Loki rolled his eyes and shot a hand up to his neck, digging a thumb into his Adam's apple, “I grow weary of your vapid jesting,” he growled, eyes darkening. The impatient deity swung Tony around so his back faced the bed, and shoved him back the remaining two steps. His legs caught on the edge and he fell onto it clumsily, the force of the shove and the pain in his neck striping him of coordination. Loki pounced onto him, tangling his long thin legs into his, digging ten long fingernails into the skin of his chest and planting three vicious nips onto the side of his neck. He pushed their foreheads together painfully, mimicking the motion with their hips, rocking together more slowly and more forcibly. Loki gasped something Tony couldn't quite catch before he drew their lips together once more, tongues twisting together as readily as teeth. His mumbling continued, and Tony felt his skin grow cold, the sensation spreading like the shadow of a burn, filling the space between his mind and his flesh. And suddenly, they were all bare skin and panting breath, the quick work of a simple enchantment.

Tony tore his lips away from the Trickster's, managing to push a smile through his ragged breath, “That has to be the best way to use your powers for good” he said, pressing his hands into his back, feeling his muscles move under his skin and his bones brush against his fingers as he rocked.

Loki slowed his pace, stopping almost completely, and sat up, his hands running along Tony's arms as he leaned back to sit on his lap, legs still straddling him. He felt him buck against him, grinning as he realized it was his turn to tease. Gently, he traced a finger down Tony's chest, drawing flowers around the ten red lines he'd dug moments before. Tony tensed to stop from giggling, trying not to put a dent in his power play. But his eyes rolled back in his head as they moved together and his hands reached to grasp at the sheets. Loki ground against his crotch slowly, a stroke for every phantom petal, and stretched his neck to the side absent mindedly. He looked bored.

And Tony fell for it.

He reached up and grabbed Loki's chest, slipping him onto his back and wrapping a hand around both their cocks, pulling rhythmically as he shoved them forward with his hips, feeling a warmth growing quickly in his lower belly, rooted deep within his core and burrowing its way out. He gasped, despite himself, a breathy “ _fuck_ ” moaned into Loki's open mouth. The Jotun's skin began to pulse with ice, turning suddenly freezing every time his breath hitched in tiny, distressed intakes of air. His back arched and he moaned low in his throat,  traces of blue flashing down his chest like lightening, his focus pulled so far from his enchantments as to weaken them. Both their stomach had grown slick, with sweat and precum and the snail trails of greedy tongues. Tony braced a hand against Loki's neck and gave an earnest shove, determined to see the scarlet of his eyes before they'd finished.

He underestimated the closeness of the new headboard however, and smashed the both of them into it, himself by the forehead and an incredibly irritated Loki by the back of his skull. The later's skin flushed back to pallid hues as the sudden jolt yanked him away from the brink of orgasm. He looked ready to kill the man whose name had been so close to gushing from his lips.

Just as he opened his mouth to curse, the pair heard a creak and a wobble that caused them pause. They looked toward the sound, Loki bending his head backwards to see.

One of the tall wrought iron candle holders that had been placed throughout the room had been knocked by the edge of the headboard when it moved, and it swayed dangerously, four legs taking turns jumping off the floor. The panting couple could do nothing but watch and clutch the so recently injured sides of their heads.

The holder tipped forward, pitching toward them, flame extinguished by the gush of melted wax that flooded the wick. It caught on the edge of the bed with a bang, sending hot wax careening through the air, and splattering over the horrified lovers before it. Drops cooled by the sweat of Tony's brow burned in pinpoints as he grimaced. Loki's chest got the worst of it, a great pool forming in its center.

To Tony's surprise, the god moaned, back arching as it had moments before. He moved quickly, smacking his lover's fumbling hands aside to grab his own cock, smoke rising off his chest as his skin flushed to its icy norm and the pace of his hand hastened.

Tony  climbed off of him and leaned back, watching this entirely new spectacle unfold.

Loki was beside himself, one hand grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, another stroking furiously at his leaking cock, sliding effortlessly with the pace of his frantic breath. His eyes went scarlet, a sure sign that he was close to his peak. He pressed his back against the headboard, legs kicking out desperately. Tony could feel the cold radiating from him, hardening the wax in long dripping lines along his chest as he moaned and whimpered. A dozen fragments of half formed words burst from his lips like shards of glass from a broken window, sudden, quick, and dangerous.  He gasped wordlessly as he came, his head thrown back over the headboard, his right foot kicking Tony painfully in the stomach as he tipped from half pain to pure pleasure.

Tony watched him wind down, hand moving from his cock reluctantly, muscles turning lax and skin fading from deep blue to its customary shades of snowy white, neck bent over the headboard, lips trembling into a smile. Shifting forward on his knees, Tony reached to pull open one of Loki's eyes.

Blood red, pupil blown to obscure almost half of Tony's favorite shade.  
He glanced down at the pool of hardened wax beginning to crumble off Loki's chest and stick in the trail of cum left along his stomach and hand,  gobs of it tying him to the sheets like spider's silk.

"Well. . ." he said slowly, wary of how much time was left of Loki's afterglow, "If we're changing back the sheets. . .might as well redecorate the place."

Loki's chest heaved and he nuzzled into the palm of Tony's hand, "Hm, something I've been thinking about." 


End file.
